


Tangled

by NoelleAngelFyre



Series: Real Life Fairytale [3]
Category: Kim Possible (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, First Time (Implied), Martial Arts Training, Mentor/Student Relationships, Romantic Excursions, Unexpected Reunions, World Traveling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 17:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17626625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoelleAngelFyre/pseuds/NoelleAngelFyre
Summary: They start in Cambodia, where it all began.





	Tangled

They start in Cambodia, where it all began.

They don’t return to the temple, but make camp a short distance away. (It could very well be the exact same place as once before, but everything looks the same here: trees, sharp beams of sunlight, and, eventually, star-scattered evening skies.)

All night, they talk. Not of the past they share, but that which is not shared between them. Kimberly entertains him with tales of younger siblings, particularly a pair as inventive and outrageous as the twins. Monty enthralls her with stories of his early travels around Europe and, later, expeditions deep into the hearts of India, Africa, Japan, and many more. It marvels her to think he has done so much in, relatively speaking, so very few years.

(Kim acknowledges their age difference in the same way people acknowledge a stormy day: it’s there, it exists, and were one to attempt exit from the secure bubble within which they cocoon themselves, it would prove slightly problematic. But these next three months are for her, and him, and her-and-him. Their bubble is secure.)

Cambodia served its purpose once, and it is not meant to be a place of leisure now. They only stay two nights. By mid-day on the third, they’ve boarded a boat without any real care for their destination.

Flights to and from anywhere, until the moment they part ways, is out of the question. Too much security, too many people who will recognize her and suspect him. Boats and long-distance train rides are safer. He travels as Montgomery Harrington (“Mother’s maiden name,” he tells her) and she addresses herself as “Kimberly”. Somehow, even with an unaltered surname, no one makes the immediate connection.

***

Kim is hopelessly endeared by Ireland in all its lush green glory. She tries and fails (all with good humor) to learn the native language. She samples every dish, insists on drives out in the far countryside, and makes quick friends with the first farmer they encounter. The man is most hospitable and opens his home to them both. His wife is an excellent cook, and Kim enchants the little ones with stories of America.

They stay for a week, then board a ferry to the British Isles.

She is bewildered by the Welsh tongue and equally as enchanted with Scotland as she was Ireland. Her reckless disregard for what people might think of her cemetery-fascination never fails to amuse Monty. She drags him on five different ghost-haunting tours, takes hundreds of pictures, and treats each supposed-haunting with impressive respect.

The Scottish locals treat her especially kindly. Monty suspects her red hair and bright green eyes contribute to the way several of the elderly endear to her like a grandchild. Him, they treat with polite indifference: the natural British accent isn’t worth suppressing just to get in good favor.

***

England welcomes them with typical summer weather: torrents of rain, three days in a row.

They wait the weather out in a little inn, the first one they could find with reasonable rates. (There was an exchanging of looks between staff when Kim requested a single suite (Monty strongly advised against it; she ignored him) with two beds, but nothing was said. That they could hear, anyway.) Kim collected a small hoard of books in Scotland, all regaling tales of local hauntings, spirits, and vengeful ghosts, and a handful more of Celtic lore from their prior travels. She spends hours reading, one after the other. He meditates for a time, reminds her to eat when necessary, and then requests she read her written treasures out loud. His request delights her, and as such pleases him.

(He’s found making her happy, earning the unbridled radiance of her smile, is quite a reward for his troubles.)

The second week in England, they find Bates in a small pub. The poor man nearly drops his loaded tray of dirty dishes as soon as he sees them; Monty’s mouth twitches in a poorly-guised smirk and Kim swats his shoulder for it.

They leave Bates undisturbed while they place lunch orders. Even so, Kim can particularly feel his bewildered gaze darting over them, repeatedly, throughout the meal. Then she and Monty get lost in an impassioned debate over classic literature and she forgets all about the former valet.

Business dies down around the three o’clock hour, and they’re the only customers left in the pub. Then, flustered and flushed, Bates makes his way to their table. He rather looks fit to start spouting accusations of coercion and manipulation, but Monty cuts him off at the curve.

“Hello, old friend,” he says, with perfect politeness and a smile Kim suspects might actually be genuine, “you’ve done quite well for yourself.”

“Erm…yes. Well.” The short man fusses with his apron, drawn tight across his generous middle, “You…you do not look quite as I remember you. That is—you look…”

“Sane?”

Bates flushes red and Kim barely stifles a laughing fit in her honey-milk-tea. “That…that wasn’t what I intended to say, milord.”

“No, because you’re too polite for it.” Monty replies, finishing his drink with a slight flourish. “But it remains, that was the word you were looking for.”

“…well, yes.”

The tension ebbs quickly. Bates graciously foots the bill for their dinner, insisting preparing fish and chips (“A house specialty,” he says), and joins them for dessert. Kim helps him clean up after closing, despite his protests on the matter. Then they talk some more, until the hour grows exceptionally late and it’s time to retire for the evening.

They change inns the following day, relocating to the one adjacent to Bates’ pub. The rate is a little higher, but the accommodations are not to be sneered at and no one even looks twice at a teenage girl rooming with a gentleman clearly not her age-peer.

For the next few days, they sight-see. Kim enjoys the London Eye so much she insists on riding it for hours. (Were Monty not accustomed to great heights, he would be quite nauseous by the time her excitement is finally sated.) They take long strolls through parks, visit a few churches, and enjoy a couple shows by street performers. Daily meals involve sampling little places along their walks, but dinner is always at the pub. Bates refuses to let them pay him a dime.

The fourth night, Kim quietly excuses herself under the pretenses of admiring the local artwork mounted along the inner walls. In reality, she reads Monty’s look too well and maintains her absence until his gaze meets hers across the room and she knows the conversation he sought with his former valet has been had. Bates wears a pensive expression for the next three days, seems to be constantly lost in thought, and though she does not directly ask the question she still suspects the answer.

As their time in England draws to a close, Kim spends a great wealth of time examining bus schedules, train routes, and blindly throwing makeshift darts (pushpins and toothpicks) at a map to determine their next destination. After careful consideration, she decides on a tour of Italy and France before delving into the great Imperial Capitals of Eastern Europe.

(For the third and final month of travel, she plans to beseech Monty for a retracing of his travels throughout India and most of Asia. She’s confident he won’t refuse her.)

She adds a few more books to her growing collection from a small local shop Bates recommends, and spends some time at the postal office shipping them home to Middleton. The name of this travel-game is ‘pack light’ and she can’t very well heft around a wealth of literature through the jungles of India. She then uses Wade to have a conversation with the family back home before returning to the inn.

It’s only a moderate surprise to find Bates there, alongside his former master, with a packed bag.

“If you don’t object to an additional companion, milady.” He stutters. She kisses his cheek, a quick peck, then beams at him.

“Not in the slightest.”

(If nothing else, it will make things easier when lodging: the men can share quarters, she’ll get her own room, and no one will bat an eye.)

***

In France, they tour Notre Dame twice (the second time is a night visit: Monty takes her well beyond the ‘tourist line’ for an uninhibited bird’s eye view of Paris), climb the Eiffel Tower, walk for miles, and eat far too many desserts. Bates busies himself with taking pictures while Kim seizes a not-to-be-missed opportunity and kisses Monty atop the Tower. Twice.

Their final night in Italy is marked with a leisurely ride down the Venetian canals (Bates pays a man a respectable sum to pilot his gondola for three hours) while fireworks shower from above. Not much is said between them, but when she peels a glove from Monty’s hand and laces her fingers with his, enough is made clear.

***

Kim turns eighteen in Budapest; in celebration, the trio trade out their traveling clothes for fancier attire and enjoy a night at the opera. She doesn’t pretend to understand a word of what is being sung, but instead focuses on the body language of those performing. Through the motions of their arms and the facial expressions she can glimpse with minimal difficulty, she learns the story, the characters and the battles they fight within themselves.

(She thinks of herself, not so long ago, and the irrefutable evidence of her triumph is empowering.)

***

The jungle welcomes them with humidity and late-summer heat. Clothing becomes minimal for both Monty and Kim, while Bates stubbornly sweats through his attire in the name of ‘preserving propriety’.

The valet spends most of his time under the shelter of tents, with books and a small battery-powered fan. Kim and Monty take their shelter beneath tree-shade in the jungle thicket. They return to the campsite with little frequency, instead remaining deep in the heartland, and as such entrust Bates to keep well after himself with the food provisions packed and water filtered from the streams.

Days pass into weeks. Hours are spent engaging each other as master and student; for both, it is the absolute pinnacle of their relationship: every moment leading up to these. He invites her into his world: a place of rigorous training and uninterrupted dedication to the art. She steps through the opened door without pause, without reservation, and throws herself into his teaching with zealous determination. 

(For her, this is the pinnacle challenge: to meet his every expectation and exceed it, time and time again.)

The blazing sun nearly broils Monty like a lobster more than once and (inexplicably) paints Kim in shades of bronze and gold. Days of ceaseless training carve her muscles into lean form: elegant and deceptively resilient. Under high noon, the red of her hair – strands taking great pleasure in escaping from their bonds – is impossibly passionate in its hue, and he often thinks a ghosting touch would scald fingertips.

(For him, this is the moment long-sought-after: to watch her willingly break under his every-given challenge, and be resurrected infinitely more glorious for it.)

Their allotted days come to an end on a particularly blistering day which, finally, softens into an evening of considerably more tolerable temperature. Monty has a thought of returning to camp, to ensure Bates is still maintaining, and then loses said thought at the sight of Kim waving to him with great excitement. Curiosity being second-nature, he follows her direction off the traditional path: the impossibly thick tangle of brush breaks, after a time, into the cool grey stone of cave-mouth.

He finds her a short distance within the cavern, illumination offered only by the last strands of daylight behind them. She catches his hand and leads the way, deeper into the cool and dark; the pathway is not excavated by machines, as evidenced by the way it progressively narrows – and then expands to staggering dimensions. The river passes through this place: pale blue waters churning in their journey and filtering out to smaller pools at random.

In the time he takes to appreciate a natural wonder (not some man-made travesty), Kim removes a selection of what little clothing she’s taken to wearing and dives right into the water. She surfaces a moment later: dripping wet, hair loose, and green eyes sparkling with her smile.

The river-rushing is a soothing sound around them, echoing throughout stone walls; beneath the surface, it is a hazy interruption to the silence of crystal-clear waters. Kim swims with confidence and ease: twirling about and fluttering like a dolphin. (With the way her hair ribbons out in the tide, Monty is obliged to think of the merfolk of lore.) She slips into the quiet waters of a pool, and surfaces in his arms.

(This is not the first time either has seen the other in a state of relative-undress, since first arriving in India; it is the first time they have been in such a state outside the iron-lock of focused diligence.)

“Is this the moment I surrender?” Kim whispers, arm delicately looping around his shoulders.

“Wholly,” he breathes against her lips, “and completely.”

(The cavern walls bear witness, and say nothing.)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the Kim Possible franchise. Please enjoy.


End file.
